'Marry you! Get along!'
'I don't see why you should doubt my word,' cried Bell, with an angry flush. 'I'm engaged to him as honourably as any young lady could be. He has written me lots of letters promising to make me his wife, he has given me a ring, and we're only waiting till he's appointed to be rector of Heathcroft to marry.'
'Well, I'm d——d,' observed Mr Mosk, slowly. 'Is this true?'
'I'll show you the ring and letters if you like,' said Bell, tartly, 'but I don't see why you should be so surprised. I'm good enough for him, I hope?'
'You're good-lookin', I dessay, Bell, but he's gentry.'
'I'm going to be gentry too, and I'll hold my own with the best of them. As Bishop Pendle's daughter-in-law, I'll scratch the eyes out of any of 'em as doesn't give me my place.'
Mosk drew a long breath. 'Bishop Pendle's daughter-in-law,' he repeated, looking at his daughter with admiration. 'My stars! you are a clever girl, Bell.'
'I'm clever enough to get what I want, father, so long as you don't put your foot into it. Hold your tongue until I tell you when to speak. If the bishop knew of this now, he'd cut Gabriel off with a shilling.'
'Oh, he would, would he?' said Mosk, in so strange a tone that Bell looked at him with some wonder.
'Of course he would,' said she, quietly; 'but when Gabriel is rector of Heathcroft it won't matter. We'll then have money enough to do without his consent.'